


move me, baby

by overcastskeleton



Category: Marvel, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)
Genre: Black!Reader - Freeform, F/M, Smut, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Just fluffy, lazy day sex with Sam (because it's what he deserves).
Relationships: Sam Wilson (Marvel)/Reader, Sam Wilson (Marvel)/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	move me, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Was this just an excuse to wax poetic about Sam Wilson? Maybe.   
> Is it shamelessly self-indulgent? Oh absolutely.   
> Nothing but the best for my Captain America.

The room is quiet, save for the hushed moans and pants exchanged between lovers. Whispers of praise and adoration murmured into smooth skin, the words tucked deep into the burrows of the heart. This intimate dance of limbs, this quiet slide of bodies, plays out amongst the rainy day. 

It starts out innocently enough. You and Sam sprawled out on the couch, your head on his chest, body draped over his. Two pairs of heavy lidded eyes focus on the television, attention fading in and out as you make your way through episodes of Atlanta. His hand rests on your butt, breaching the waistband of your yoga pants for a handful of warm, supple skin. 

The world has paused, offering you a scarce moment of rest. No calls, no emergencies, just peace and gentle rain. Of which, you and your boyfriend have taken advantage of without hesitation. 

Though you haven’t made it even halfway through the second episode before the hand on your butt is moving. Strong fingers tease your skin, kneading, squeezing. You let out a quiet moan, body going boneless on top of him. His chest rumbles with quiet laughter, his touch growing a little bolder.

It had been hard to ignore the hard press of his dick against your leg. Now what was tough before has become nearly impossible. He makes it so, not-so-subtly pulling you down onto him and rubbing up against your thigh. 

You look up at him with a knowing smirk. “Is your hand lost, babe?” A teasing lilt colors your words. 

He smiles down at you, simultaneously lighting up your world and setting a fire ablaze inside of you. “Why? You offering directions?” 

_ Corny _ . That’s your boyfriend to a tee, and you let him know as much as you prop yourself up over him and kiss him gently. You can still taste his smile when his tongue licks into your mouth, parting your lips. Taste his need for you, hot and treacly, as you roll your hips forward. His hand leaves your ass and settles on your hip, guiding your slow rhythm. The other cups your chin, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you deeper. 

Next the languid rustle of clothes discarded haphazardly, tossed across the room to be found later in uncanny places. A shirt on the lampshade, sweatpants on the kitchen floor, your yoga pants in front of the very TV you were meant to be watching. The repositioning of bodies, until you sit in his lap, legs spread over his waist. 

A sigh leaves your lips as his fingers press into you, coaxing a cracked whimper from the deep recesses of your chest. Sam plucks another warbled note from you, dragging his lips across your shoulder. He plays the frayed strings of your body with deft movements, a curl of his fingers inside of you, a pinch to your puckered nipples, dark lips on brown skin. 

They pull moans and gasps out of you. Your mouth shapes breathy syllables of his name, your nails draw shallow lines on his chest and stomach. You wrap a spit-slicked hand around his length and he groans sharply, biting out a curse. 

It’s not long before his fingers move from between your thighs and his dick takes their place. Your lips are on his again, swallowing the moan he gives when he thrusts into you for the first time. That breathless noise of appreciation you’ll never grow tired of hearing. 

“Oh  _ shit _ , baby,” Sam whispers against your jaw and you hum in his ear. 

Your bodies writhe together, hips rocking, riding out the rolling waves of lust. Desire unfurling like crimson silk deep within your chest. It’s a heady and intoxicating mixture, this intimate medley of sighs and roaming hands. 

You sink into it, into  _ him _ . 

Sam’s arms cradle you, holding you so tightly it’s like he wants to embed himself within you in every way. To never part from the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin again. His nose skims your neck, inhaling the calming scent of you. The warmth of cinnamon, the sharpness of eucalyptus, the soothing fragrance of lavender, slowly invading his senses. 

His hips stutter into yours, a choked warning on his tongue. You’re right there with him, a hand nestled into the hallowed space between your thighs, stroking your clit in time with the lurch of your hips. You rest your forehead against his, kiss his parted lips, and it’s over. 

A shudder. A strained grunt of your name, and warmth spills into you. You unravel right alongside him, body arcing like lightning through the sky. Hot blood thumps right below the skin, warm breath mixes as you both cry out, sweat dots your skin. It’s euphoric, the way your bodies meld together, pushing higher and  _ higher _ . You both crest the wave of pleasure, suspended for a moment before you’re free falling back to earth. 

It must have been the same sensation Icarus experienced, as he felt the sweet embrace of Apollo for the first time. 

You fall into Sam’s body, bliss spreading through your muscles. “ _ God _ .” 

Sam kisses your chin. “ _ Yeah _ .” His mouth splits into a smile, and your heart flips. “Never gonna get tired of that.” 

You love the way he looks at you after, when he’s still a little pussy drunk and dopey. There’s a reverence in his gaze, as if your hands had shaped the stars and hung the moon. You have, in a way, entered his corner of the galaxy with a Big Bang, carved out space for yourself amongst the cosmos of his life. Rearranged the order of the planets and drawn him towards you with the gravitational pull and warmth of the sun. 

Sam’s slow to move away, limbs still like sap when he eases out of you with another quiet groan. He grabs his shirt off the arm of the couch and uses it to clean the mess between your thighs. Never one to be squeamish, he has seen war after all, he tosses the ruined shirt on the floor and pulls you back to his chest. 

It’s your turn to hold him now, to trace his skin with your fingertips. Commit the ridges of his body to memory like a topographic map. His scars form mountains and valleys. His muscles, the slopes of rolling hills. He melts beneath your gentle touch, arms wrapped around you like a vice. 

Another episode starts. The world continues it’s trek around the sun, but time and space have no meaning here in this little room. In the space you and Sam have created there is only each other, and a love so strong, it seems to make the universe stop and stare. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr for more: mxsamwilson


End file.
